Five recurring dreamsnightmares Janet Fraiser has
by rebeccavoy
Summary: written for the sg1 five things community on LJ


**Title:** Five recurring dreams/nightmares Janet Fraiser has

**Author:** Rebecca Johnson [.com]

**Email:**

**Rating:** PG

**Spoilers:** _Rite of Passage, Singularity_

**Summary:** title tells it all

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Janet. If I did, she'd still be here to play.

1. The gun in her hand felt heavy, weighing down her soul. But no matter how hard she tried she couldn't drop it, nor could she make the move to shoot. Standing there, pointing the gun squarely at the woman handcuffed to the chair in the middle of the room, she had never felt such hatred … and such shame. She could feel the eyes of her friend and commanding officer on her as she stood there in her agonising limbo.

2. Never before had the walls of the infirmary, of *her* infirmary, seemed so menacing. As she ran around bed after bed (each one seeming to try its best to get in her way and trip her up) she felt the walls start to loom in, closing in on her as fast as her pursuer. The man chasing her caught her, as he always did, and before she knew it she was lying prone on the bed before him, unable to move and subject to his nonexistent mercies.

He looked down at her, his crooked grin menacingly gleeful as he ran his fingers over her equipment tray, selecting his instrument of torture. His fingers passed quickly over the sharp scalpels and scissors before zeroing in on his choice. He cried out in satisfaction as he picked it up.

"Now it's your turn, Doctor Fraiser."

Still finding herself unable to move, she gave up on the attempt to escape and resigned herself to the treatment she had endured on many a night. As eagerly as a small child, Jack shone the bright penlight directly into her eyes repeatedly before carefully selecting the largest needle, smiling as he exacted his revenge.

Damn him for being as annoyingly unforgiving in her sleep as in reality.

3. Janet just stared at her daughter as she walked away from her, towards the tall blonde woman standing a ways off. She didn't even look back, just left her behind with her broken heart. What had she done wrong? She had tried so hard; loved her so much. Why did she want to leave her? Why did she love Sam more?

She hadn't thought that anything could hurt more than the first time she had heard those words leave Cassie's mouth … but every night came with a new and more painful goodbye.

4. When Janet woke up, the muted sounds of Cassie's early morning routine drifting into her bedroom, she knew she had had that dream. Again. She had had what she was sure was the exact same dream over and over, but no matter how many times she had it, she could never remember it come morning. All she remembered were the briefest flashes.

Soft words whispered into her ear. Long fingers, dry and paper worn, running over her skin and into her hair. Kind blue eyes locked openly and honestly onto hers. Warm kisses that tasted ever so faintly of coffee. And the undeniable feeling of utter safety, complete protection.

She couldn't remember it completely, could never visualise a whole face, no matter how hard she tried. But every day, when Daniel popped his head into her office on his way to retrieve his mid-morning coffee, the perennial book under his arm, she couldn't help but return to those images.

5. The entire mountain echoed … she didn't quite know how that happened when she was the only one there. Stepping carefully over the broken bodies lining the halls, Janet searched desperately for any sign of movement. The tears streaming down her face blurred the carnage all around her to some degree but the faces of her colleagues, of her friends, were still burned into her memory.

There was Daniel, his fallen form littering the gate room floor, and General Hammond, flattened up against the wall. Teal'c lay prone in the doorway, his staff weapon still aiming towards the gate; he had fallen during his protection. Walking up the stairs to the gate room she saw Colonel O'Neill, his length sprawled across the stairs, bloodied handprints marking his slow drag to the point he gotten to. She took a staggered, tear-chocked breath as she stepped over him, not even bothering to check for the pulse she knew would be missing, to continue the journey he had started to find who she knew was up the stairs. Slumped over the control room consoles she saw Sam, saw her best friend, and the tiniest part of her still alive broke at the expression of pain that had been left in death on her face.

She was alone.


End file.
